Evanston: the bane of the simple life; dead letters
Evanston: the bane of the simple life; dead letters
The quality of my life aboard GANNET is greatly enhanced by electronics. Music, books, writing, photography, Internet, telephone, even shaving.
GANNET is the first boat I’ve owned, other than CHIDIOCK TICHBORNE, on which I didn’t immediately build bookshelves.
Individually from the box above:
USB. USBMicro; foxL2 bluetooth speaker; iPod Classic; Apple AC plug; Apple 18 pin to lightning adapter; Apple lightning cord; Bose Soundlink charging cord; Panasonic electric shaver charging cord.
Every one essential for something. And there are more.
It holds my collection of rechargeable Sanyo eneloop batteries and two chargers.
In front of it is the charger for the handheld electric drill; and chargers for my two cameras, both of which are Sony, but, naturally, use different batteries.
To the right of the box are a MacBook Pro power adapter and the standard AC charger for the Torqeedo batteries. I generally use a direct DC cord to charge the Torqeedo, which I neglected to include in these photographs. And there is also a separate power adapter for the iPad.
All of this charging is done through two cigarette lighter sockets, one on each side of the Great Cabin.
Those that run off USB plug into one of two Elago adapters.
The cigarette lighter sockets are wired directly to the ship’s batteries, with inline circuit breakers.
The ship’s batteries are charged by the four 25 watt Aurinco solar panels, assisted by a Blue Sky Solar Boost 2000e regulator.
In practice so far, both on Lake Michigan and in San Diego, the system works perfectly. For electricity and mobility, by sail, Torqeedo or oars, GANNET is completely self-contained.
The only times I’ve plugged into shore power since moving the little sloop to San Diego have been briefly to run a hand jig saw.
The hardest part of the simple life is untangling cords.
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I cut through the corner of Calvary Cemetery on my way walking to and from the supermarket this morning.
On the way back, just as I entered the cemetery, a mail truck drove in, and a young mailwoman--a word that gives pause--got out. I told her I was smiling at the thought of her delivering mail to a cemetery. Surely, dead letters.
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It takes me a couple of days to adapt to being back in the flatlands.
It has been two days, and I have.
Thursday, August 15, 2013